I feel like I should write in here, at least for myself. So I will. Hah.

The beginning of my semester was murderous, due to one of the off-campus bookstores closing unexpectedly. Our traffic was absolutely insane the first week of classes, plus I was more or less in charge of the textbooks temps, which was an exercise in patience that I did not possess. There were days when I was doing four or five different jobs in a day (as in, jobs that should have been assigned to that many people). I lost about fifteen pounds, because I would run around for eight hours a day and then not eat enough because I was on the "pissed off diet." One of the temps was also the most apparently perfect boy I've ever met, and it turned out we went to high school together. He's about two years older than me. We went and got dinner and also went to the art museum (I called these "date-not-dates" because they were like dates but without physical contact), but then he got a real job in D.C. because he has a masters in political science or whatever. And lived in Germany. Because he speaks German. Ugh, good for him, bad for me.

Then I started sleeping with a painfully autistic 21 year old. Who got mono and then maybe gave it to me? I don't know. Sleepy.

Finished my thesis about the sideshow, both the written part (it was like 150 pages, although illustrations were involved) and the painting. Actually, I could go back into the painting. Anyway, I defended it quite awesomely. The notoriously difficult to please professor I had for LGBT studies (who I also have a wicked little crush on) told me it was one of the best he's been involved in and gave me an awkward little pat. Turned in my writing portfolio. Played Macbeth in my Shakespeare class. Got an A, of course. Have now apparently graduated with my BA. Only cum laude, because of my problems from years ago, but still not terrible. I have to start looking into grad school now, I guess, or acquiring a real person job of some sort. My goal is to start producing more: more writing that I submit for publication, more art, more work that might sell to people. And the grad school applications. Sigh. I'd really like to work in a museum, but I fear getting that education and then being un- or underemployed.

I desperately want to live elsewhere, but at the moment I have nowhere to go. :(

Also, I read some books, saw some movies, all that jazz. Soon I hope to post about that. You know, the non-life stuff. The inner life, which is so much better.